The Wound is a Gateway

The wound is a gateway if you allow it to be.

This is how I found my gateway….


One day about nine years after my ‘terrible thing’ happened,

I gave up.

I stopped trying to feel better.

I stopped trying to go on with my life as if nothing had happened.

I stopped trying to fix myself.

I stopped pretending everything was ALL RIGHT.

I surrendered.

I gave up.

I took out my little white flag and started waving it.

I said, Take me away—I’m DONE here!

And they took me away.

And that’s when everything changed.


Now, we’re taught not to give up.

We’re taught to fight.

We’re supposed to learn how to defend ourselves.

To Win—not to Lose!

We’re taught to worry about what others will think.

And not to lose face.

Be strong! Act Strong. Fight! Fight!

But surrender, if you really give yourself up to it,

Is a beautiful thing.

It allows for an opening,

For something new to enter in…


So, after my surrender, I felt this new opening…

This new lightness!

It came from my new honesty.

And then I had a dream…

And in the dream I was shot, and killed…

And it was beautiful…

And then I started to fall…

I fell down down down to the bottom of the sea.

And when I landed on the sea-floor a door opened under water.

A door opened into this new place.

It looked like more water, more sea…

And then I woke up,

And I knew I had to see more…


I wanted to go back there, be in that dream again.

Feel that beautiful feeling of dying again.

I painted myself going back there,

To that place under water.

The paintings became the Doorway.

The paintings became my journey back.

Through, my journey in, to see, more.


You don’t have to become a painter,

Just be creative.

It is a gift you were born with.

Surrender yourself to it…

Give up already…

And welcome in the Divine.







Why Create ART?

cezanneBecause we happened to move to New York City, and because my mother, who was from a small city in Central Illinois, was hungry for art and culture, I was exposed to the great museums when I was quite young.

I can remember seeing Van Gogh and Renoir, Modigliani and El Greco, but no one quite moved me like Cezanne. I was five years old at the time, and it was Cezanne who invited me into his world like no one else did. A mysterious, magical world that existed alongside this one, but was different. In this world but not of it.

in-the-forest-of-fontainbleau-1882To this day I am not quite sure how he did it. Though I have gone back to look at his work innumerable times, I have not been able to recapture the feeling I had as a child. I have also read about his life, his techniques, and interpretations of his oeuvre. But that initial and startling realization as a young person that a French painter from another century had the key to another world beside this one—or through this one—or at any rate co-existing with this one—though less readily available—has never been duplicated.

And here’s the thing. Cezanne not only saw it himself and showed it to me on his canvases, but he invited me in to share it with him. That was the feeling I got with the landscape paintings, the blue trees and blue rocks. The sheer magical depth of scenes I had never envisioned or thought might exist—and yet here they were.

It was a very different feeling from the one I got from stories and fairy tales and the illustrations provided in those books—perhaps because I was looking at the actual work of art, and not a printed version on paper.


And here’s another thing: there was nothing there to see! Of this “other” world, I mean. It was the merest suggestion, but that was all it took to get my imagination. And I think that’s all I’ve ever needed, just a suggestion. As I might need only a single leaf to tickle my cheek in order for me to believe I am surrounded by a whole forest of trees!

In other words, I was inspired. Because I knew, as most children do, that there truly was another world within this one, and it was just as real, just as viable. Yet many years had to pass by before I was willing as an adult to delve into the inner world with my inner creative being. Years of disappointment, shattered hopes and dreams fallen by the wayside before I could say to myself Wait! There IS something else! Something inside to explore. And Be. And Realize. And Do. And Create.

“Little Man #4" oil on canvas by Nancy Wait
“Little Man #4″ oil on canvas by Nancy Wait

But I had to reach for it. I had to dig and delve. I also had to master my materials of choice—the paints and instruments of drawing—a process of trial and error as most things are. The continuing result has of course been worthwhile. For as I gave credence to the inner workings of my psyche, I came more alive in the outer expression of ‘my’ world. And that has been the greatest payoff imaginable. To come more alive to oneself. And then, to feel the whole world resonating with that same aliveness, that same spark of life and creation, of change and evolution.

It begins with the feeling of being invited into another world…


Originally posted at  Oct. 28, 2012







Season Finale – love note from Nancy Wait

This Tuesday, April 30th, 2013, will be our last show of the series we began three months ago on Inspirational Storytellers on Blog Talk Radio. I am grateful to all the guests who have come on our show to share their stories, and to my friend and co-host, Lynne Ralph (aka Lynne Maree) for her tireless work in creating and promoting our guests and their stories on her website, Inspirational Storytellers. It is our stories that give meaning to the world. And meaning to our own lives.

Behind everything, there is a story. Did you write a shopping list? There’s a story behind each one of the items you’ve chosen. There’s a story behind your need for them too. The shoes you’re wearing have a story to tell. Life itself is a myriad of stories—funny, sad, poignant, tragic, ennobling, confusing, difficult to express sometimes, which is why we salute those who do write their stories, and those that even make the attempt. Those who write fiction draw from their own experiences, so we salute them too, as well as those who write from their imagination.

storyWhen you put your story out there, you are making a difference. Even if you don’t share it with anyone, you are changing the world because you have changed the energy in your room. You’ve changed the way your molecules vibrate. In opening up, in putting your story down on paper, you are putting it outside yourself. So it is no longer just inside you. And in that process, you are making yourself more real in the world.

But we haven’t only had writers on the show; we’ve had people who have taken it upon themselves to inspire others the way that they have been inspired. It may have been to take a leap of faith. Or to pick themselves up after a disappointment, when the life they had previously known fell apart. And they want to share how they did it, what steps they took, and how they ended up finding a new life, new meaning, and a new perspective.

wounded-wisdomWe’ve also talked with a couple of artists who, aside from doing their own work, support others in taking up the brush in order to access a deeper part of themselves. Perhaps a hidden part, or a more real part, but definitely an aspect that has not been acknowledged or dealt with—the creative side, which makes all things possible. Whenever you dream that you can do something, you must do it. You need to make a start, and believe in yourself, and do whatever you can to keep that belief going, no matter what. Because we are all here to fulfill the dream of ourselves. A dream that I believe, we came in with at birth.

Our job, the purpose of this show, has been for a short period of time, to say Hurrah! to those who have been inspired to follow their dream, to follow their heart, and have lived to tell the tale. Sending out sparks, as it were, so that others may be ignited with the courage to get on with it, and share their light too. Never underestimate the power of a single spark!

mandy-quoteIt’s all about sharing the light. If you have done the work of transforming your darkness into light, you will naturally want to share it, so that others may be inspired to share their stories as well, and we all may be encouraged to keep peering into our shadows, lighting up the darkness! Re-energizing ourselves and all we come in contact with—with the energy of lightness, the fire of creativity. So say it loud, and say it clear, because we cherish your radiance!



Meaningful Encounters

Tuesday, March 19th, 2013, is the day for meaningful encounters on Blog Talk Radio with Inspirational Storytellers ~ LINK

radio-playI will be reading a radio play with my cohost Gary Moore called Mr. Woundid and Ms. Heeler at the Starbucks Cafe, which is about a meaningful encounter.

sacred-wound-cover-smallThen I will read aloud a story called Geo for George,

(working title), which is about how the cover image came about on a little eBook called Sacred Wound, which is FREE March 18th through the twentieth.


The show will be LIVE at 5pm EDT; 9pm GMT, and available afterwards in the archives.


Geo for George is about a Meaningful Encounter of the 4th Dimensional Kind (as experienced by a romantic).

It is part of a collection of true stories in progress about a female artist in the 1980s who is propelled into 4th dimensional consciousness vis-à-vis a number of “meaningful encounters.” The 4th dimension has been called a clearing station, and that is how I like to see it. A place of clearing, on the journey to wholeness and love, aka 5D.

The story begins in 3D, yet doesn’t end there. It goes on. But not in 3D. It ends in 3D, but it goes on, this fly-by-night you thought was a new journey. But it ended. However meaningful the encounter was to you, it didn’t go anywhere. Not in 3D.

There will be no shared memories, only your memory. The memory will stay with you because it was meaningful. And it was meaningful because your life has been altered, and you will never look at things in quite the same way again.


I hope you will join us!


Originally posted at  Mar. 18, 2013



Sparks Igniting One Another

sparksAt the beginning of my radio shows on Inspirational Storytellers I introduce the guest as a spark, setting up the idea right away that we are going to spark each other. The last few days I’ve been seeing how I spark myself.


1→  It began a month or so ago when I happened to come across the phrase—probably in someone’s link on facebook—Turning Wounds Into Wisdom. I went to Huffington Post to have a look, and found it mostly a rehash of everything we’ve heard on the topic already. What a great phrase though!

2→  It then occurred to me to do a reprise of a radio play I wrote a couple of years ago called, Mr. Woundid and Ms. Heeler at the Starbucks Café,  because at least it made light of being wounded. And god knows laughter helps.

sacred-wound-cover-small3→  Now I had to think of what else would go with it as the play wasn’t very long. In past years I had spent some time on radio talking about the Wounded Healer, so I looked up my old files. There was quite a lot of material I’d forgotten about. As I was putting it together I realized the title would have to be Sacred Wound, as that was the main theme.

4→  As I was deciding the order and beginning to do some revisions, adding new thoughts to the old, it occurred to me to create a mini-ebook out of the articles and give it away on the show.

5→  Now I had to think of what I wanted on the cover. The painting of “George” would be perfect. I hadn’t shown it around much—and from the moment I painted it back in ’85 I had called him Wounded Man.

The ebook was finished about a week before air-date. The show was already posted on the Blog Talk Radio show page, and I updated the picture of the ebook cover which now had the title splashed across his chest.

couple16→  Then I noticed the stock photo I was using to illustrate the radio play didn’t look that great with the copyright name smack in the middle. Why didn’t I create my own illustration?

Drawing by Nancy Wait: Mr. Woundid and Ms. Heeler.

So I did.


7→  With less than a week before the show, it was time to start generating interest. A blog would be nice. A blog about the painting of “George” perhaps. So I wrote a blog called “Meet George” and posted it on facebook. It turned out to be one of my more popular pieces. People were commenting about how they wanted to know more about “George.” I actually had fun writing it, because sometimes when you force yourself to encapsulate a lot of feeling and memory into a few paragraphs, you go for the “funny.” Details can be sticky. Explanations can be sad. But when you stick to the main point—boy meets girl—you’re on proven territory.

I told one commenter on facebook that the “George” story would be fully developed in the upcoming sequel to my first memoir. (Upcoming! Who knew when that would be? I’ve been working on it for over a year and a half already and it’s nowhere near done!) And then I felt bad about it. But I also felt good, because it’s always a good feeling when people are looking forward to reading your next book. Then I felt bad again, thinking, how could I deprive them of this story until an indefinite publication date?

8→  Why don’t I write it now? Read that on the show instead of the eBook which I’m offering for free and which they could read for themselves if they’re interested?

I had already written about the “George” thing and how the painting on the cover of the eBook had come about. The writing was old, but it wouldn’t take a huge effort to modify it and bring it up to my current standards. After two marathon days of revision, I told myself it was okay, it was good enough. I titled it Geo for George. It wouldn’t be in print, only spoken aloud, and where the writing might be less than sterling, I would make up in vocal expression.

sparks-29→  Meanwhile, the concentrated effort of revising and creating, launched a turbulence in my system that was whipping up new thoughts and ideas. The troubles I’d been having with my sequel resolved themselves overnight when I began to formulate a different kind of construction, a different layout.


I’ll keep that under wraps for now, and stop at number 9. Nine sparks. Nine is my Destiny Number. Nine signifies completion. Enough. I hope you will join me this Tuesday on Blog Talk Radio for a live reading (with me and veteran radio host, Gary Moore) of Mr. Woundid and Ms. Heeler at the Starbucks Cafe, and pick up your complementary copy of Sacred Wound, free from March 18th through March 20th.


LINK to Show at 5 pm EDT; 9 pm GMT, and afterwards always available in the archives.


Originally posted at  Mar. 17, 2013




Meet George

This was my painterly impression of “George” in 1984.

Cover image, “Sacred Wound”
by Nancy Wait

This is the cover of my new mini-ebook Sacred Wound published on March 12, 2013.

Thirty-six years later, “George” gets a banner across his chest.

Let me tell you about George. He was a client. He was nice. He was nice because he hired me, paid me on delivery, and ordered lots more. Architectural renderings, that is. Then he framed them and hung them in his office. But one day he offered to give me a lift to the subway. And before I got out of the car he gave me a peck on the cheek. A peck! And yet I heard bells. It could have been straight out of that old movie, Tom, Dick and Harry with Ginger Rodgers when she heard bells and knew which one she should marry. (I forget which now.)

This, however, was far from my limited experience of “George.” Nevertheless, an unforgettable impression was made. Once those bells start ringing in your head, something must be done. Cut to the chase, after it was officially over, (though some would say it was only ever over in my head, or put another way, I was in over my head) I decided to paint the portrait he never got around to sitting for. I painted it from memory. From my imagination. From the intuitive feeling I had when I thought of him.

The result came as a complete surprise to me, as it did not resemble the image he presented outwardly to the world. And yet I had ‘picked it up.’ I had seen him on an inner level, hence the strong emotional feelings on my part. A flurry of renewed creativity ensued, partly because of this graphic representation of a ‘wounded man’ that sprang from my imagination when I was trying to get “George” out of my system. (Yes, some women might try to “Wash That Man Right Out of Their Hair” like in South Pacific, while others of us stretch a new canvas and squeeze out some paints.)

This is actually a rather long story, dealing with one’s muse, the anima and animus, the inner male, the wounded soul, and recognizing a wound in the “other” before being able to deal with it in oneself. I will get to that as it fascinates me like crazy.

Meanwhile, tune in next week on March 19th to Blog Talk Radio where I will be reading from my mini-ebook Sacred Wound (“George” isn’t mentioned; it’s enough he’s on the cover), and giving the book away free. I will also be performing a radio play I wrote called ”Mr. Woundid and Ms. Heeler at the Starbucks Cafe,” which tries to be funny! Hope you will join me.


Originally posted at  Mar. 12, 2013

Original Painting in oil by Nancy Wait (1985) 32×46 Copyright ©

Nancy’s eBook “Sacred Wound” can be found in the Inspirational Storytellers Bookstore


Direct link to next week’s Blogtalk Radio Show (3/19) can be found here: Mr. Woundid, Ms. Heeler, and the Sacred Wound




Writer’s Block? Maybe You Need A Mission

I’m serious. Writer’s block is serious. It can be devastating. I’m currently hosting a blog talk radio show called Inspirational Storytellers, and as you’d naturally expect, my goal is to be inspiring. This is actually not difficult for me. Because no matter what I am going through personally, I have this bubbly sun-shiny personality that always sounds enthusiastic. (Except when I’m really low, and then I keep my mouth shut and write in my journal. Or watch DVDs.) Doing a radio show is in itself an upper, so no worries there.

But this isn’t about radio shows per se. This is about writing. And what to do when you feel you’re stagnating, or you can’t seem to move forward, or can’t seem to get to it period.

I have been struggling with these very things in recent months. A year and a half ago I published my first book, my first memoir, and began the sequel immediately afterwards. I was extremely excited about covering new territory after being submerged for so many years in one particular time-frame—albeit a twenty-seven-year time-frame. The sequel was to be about what came after. Many readers expressed enthusiasm for the next book, and that helped. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

I can imagine that even if I had a hefty advance from a publisher for this next book, I still might be flummoxed. Because this has absolutely nothing to do with someone waiting for pages or printed pages or bound pages or digital pages… This has to do with my personal objective. Or lack thereof.

One of the most valuable comments I received from my advisor at grad school was, “Why are you telling me this?”

Boy, what a wake-up call! Why indeed? I had quite a story to tell, if I could just get it out, but until I found the raison-d’etre, forgeddabout it – as we say in Brooklyn.

It has not been a simple matter, deciding who I am writing to this time. For the first book it finally became clear to me, when I asked the question in the very first line—What did I know and when did I know it? I then proceed to spend the next three-hundred and fifty pages explaining the answer. Tellingly, I subtitled the book, “The Memoir That Solved A Mystery” Because it was true.

watercolor by Nancy Wait

With the second book, the sequel, I have wanted to tell the story of how I became an artist and why, and what it did for me, and what it did not do. It sounds fairly straight forward, yet I have found this is far from the case. I have one of those minds that needs constantly to be held in check because it tends to go all over the place. It’s why I literally throw away hundreds of pages. But never mind about that. It’s part of my process and I’ve learned to live with it. The thing is, and what I wanted to say today is, that it struck me this morning with a great deal of force—that what I must do is see and perceive my overall mission. I could say ‘goal,’ but mission tends to put it on a slightly higher level. Of course my goal is to finish the thing…but what is my purpose, my mission, the thing I need to keep reminding myself each day that will keep me focused on reaching my goal?

It is not just to spill my guts or bleed on the page or ‘just’ put it out there, tell my story. There’s got to be a why. Why should you bother to read it? Who am I writing to? I cannot emphasize enough how important this last thing is—who am I writing to. This “Who” is not going to change the facts of the story, but it is going to change my slant. It is going to affect the presentation.

Well, the good news is that this morning I have made a decision. I will write to that uncensored aspect of myself who understands my truth, and will not judge. Because often it is not enough in memoir to merely change names—or even lump characters together. It’s the truth of ourselves we’re dealing with. And we have to know why we’re telling it, and the purpose behind it—in order to have the strength and courage to carry on. And I have to believe, have to have to have to, that somewhere, there is someone, who needs to hear my truth. Not just my story, but my truth. Why else would I be struggling so hard to get it out? Because perhaps I hear a voice, calling me from the future, pleading with me to spit it out already.


Originally posted at  Feb. 15, 2013




“Turning Up the Light” – Inspirational Storyteller Radio Co-host, Nancy Wait


My goal for this show, really for the energy we’re putting out there, is that we will all take our Light to the next level. Whatever that phrase “the next level” means to us. Because if we’re still here in 3D, it means we still have something to complete. Something not yet finished or done. It’s therefore my hope, my wish, my dream—that we’ll inspire one another to take the next step.


My personal agenda for this lifetime has been to connect with my inner-self, my soul, and to express the whys and wherefores through art and writing, so that others would see what I saw, feel what I felt, and hopefully be inspired to connect to their inner-self and feel the strength of their soul, so that we all might connect through this higher plane of being and feel our Oneness.


believe1My key word is Believe


My mantra when I was a teenager was, “When there’s a will there’s a way.” I had wild dreams in those days. Going off to London to study at Rada and be an actress in England. My mother was always trying to bring me back to reality, which I saw as her reality, not mine. I decided that I had been chosen to accomplish great things. I just decided this! No one told me I would. I hadn’t begun to go to psychics or astrologers yet. I just read a lot of books, saw a lot of plays and movies – and fed my imagination.


But one thing my mother did give me, and the early training we get in childhood should never be underestimated—she gave me her fearlessness. We were very broke at one time, and had the phone cut off and threats from the electric company to shut off our lights, and all she said was that candlelight was romantic. And at least we wouldn’t be bothered by bill collectors after the phone was shut off. And, “You can’t get blood from a stone.” What a cavalier attitude! She also sold most of our things she could get money for, and when I complained about it she told me not to put my faith in material objects. So you could say I had some good early training there. And the result was that lack of funds never deterred me from a life in the arts.


But I didn’t only have my mantra, “When there’s a will there’s a way,” I also prayed. And I made wishes, and threw coins in fountains. And I think most importantly, I believed my wishes and prayers would come true!


SAgHeroI should also say that I was born under the sign of Sagittarius, which not only made me unusually optimistic, but it’s the sign ruled by Jupiter, the planet symbolizing luck and good fortune. So I’ve tended to believe that I would be lucky – which of course contributed to more luck coming my way.


But there have been other things too, like my willingness to be impressionable. Now, being impressionable is often looked upon as a negative, but I don’t see it that way. The way I see it, I am open for impressions, and therefore open to being impressed upon, and therefore, as long as I stay in the light—more light will be impressed upon me. I could change the word here to Inspired. I am open to being inspired, and therefore inspiration comes to me!


And one of the reasons is because I never lost my childlike willingness to believe in magic, or in the impossible. Belief comes naturally to children, because as children we’re betwixt and between two worlds. We haven’t yet learned our limitations. Our imaginations run free. We believe in fairy tales and Santa Claus and Father Christmas, and lap up Harry Potter.


One of my favorite children’s stories is Polar Express, about the little boy who could hear the bell when his parents couldn’t. It’s our decision, ours alone, whether we are going to keep belief alive, and feel and hear and see the magic of life—or not.


I learned how to paint step by step—no magic there—but people come by and look at my work and think its magical—simply because they don’t know how to do it. We listen to a violinist or anyone playing an instrument to perfection—and think how blessed they are to be able to do such a thing. But as anyone who knows will tell you, it’s 95% perspiration, and only 5% inspiration.


We have to put in the time. We have to become adept. And then, if we’re lucky, there will be times when we paint or write or perform with inspiration, as if the energy is just coming through us, and all we’re doing is just allowing it.


But what do we  do when we’re NOT inspired???


I don’t know how to do anything other than wait. When I was painting full-time, I went through a really fallow period at one point, and the longer it went on the more depressed I became. And then I found a book in the bookstore, quite by chance, that was called, On Not Being Able to Paint. And what I learned was that it was okay not being able to paint. I can’t remember what else, but the main thing was that I realized I could respect that part of myself that had just shut down for a while. And later on, you know, I found that what  was preventing me from working was okay, and it was there for a reason. Sometimes these fallow times come because we’re between things, between what we’ve been doing, and what we’re going to be doing next. Anyway, it comes down to respecting the process and not having preconceived ideas as to what it should be.


The other thing though, is knowing when we’re emotionally blocked, and then we need to look at what’s going on inside. It really comes back to this thing of KNOW THYSELF. And then taking whatever steps are needed. Such as just waiting it out. Or doing something else meanwhile. But underlying this whole thing is the word TRUST. Trusting that the energy will come back with the tides, or when the tide is right.


It means being in touch with your mood swings, and stepping into your fear, if that’s the case. It might mean keeping a journal, recording your thoughts and fears, or meditating, or meditating more, or seeking help.


We also need to keep in mind that the energy of inspiration can be extremely demanding and is not meant to continue indefinitely. We might have to fall back to the heaviness of earth for a spell, gather our forces again, replenish. When we’re inspired we might not sleep enough or eat properly, and therefore might need to spend more time on our physical well-being for a while, refueling the tank, as it were.


What I’ve noticed is that during my so-called fallow periods, I am absorbing something new under the surface.


Inspiration carries with it the need for expression. We’re inspired to create something, express something. Well, I set my alarm every day at a certain time to get up and get my coffee and sit down and write. Whether or not I’m inspired, I’m going to put in those hours. And every afternoon or evening I open my little sketchbook called A Sketch A Day, and I draw something, whether I’m inspired or not. And sometimes during the process of writing or drawing, I feel a flash of inspiration. But whether I do or not doesn’t matter; I’m still going to do the work. It’s called keeping your hand in, so that when inspiration does strike—you’re  there with all four burners cooking away.



“On Being Inspired”


Watercolor by Nancy Wait

When I’m inspired, it’s like being in a whorl of surging energy. I’m focused and centered on what I’m doing. I’m totally absorbed in the moment. I’m not “thinking,” I’m doing. And if my “doing” is a thought process, then the thoughts seem to be coming through me, effortlessly. I can be lost in an activity for hours and not know where the time went. It’s what athletes call being in “the zone.”

For me, it’s being in touch with my muse. My muse can come from different sources, but there’s always a sense of reaching. Of trying to capture a feeling or an idea that feels just out of reach. So I have to raise myself up a little, or stretch down further. And always, always, open my heart more. Open to more feeling, more love, more trust.


When I’m inspired, I create something new. Or I take what I’ve been working on, to a new place. I take it to a new level. It always feels like a higher level, or a deeper level. But even when I’m trying to express the depth of a feeling, I have this sense of having to reach higher for it.

And I know why this is. I know it’s because I’m in a physical body wanting to express a thought or an idea that’s beyond me, that resides in my spirit.


I also know that spirit is matter, but moving at a much faster rate. Too fast to be seen on the physical plane. So I must move faster. I must accelerate. Speed up my vibrations. Break through my old patterning.


You can, you can

take yourself in and UP

through the spire itself.

As in, aspiring

Through the whorls of energy

to the rings of the spiral

As in, grabbing hold of the spiral

As in, swinging with it

As in, spiraling with it

As in, allowing yourself

to be carried away.


Energy speeds for a new cycle

A new turn in the spiral

As in, acceleration

The mind speeds up, and UP

(It may feel like we’ve slowed down)

But we stop being bogged down

By doubts and thoughts of failure

Before we even begin

Because we are UP

In the spire

Aspiring to be more.


As children it was easy for us to be inspired. Anything could inspire us. Alphabet soup, fire trucks, paper dolls, empty boxes—what didn’t inspire us then! Every day something new to absorb, no backlog of disappointments weighing us down.


Watercolor by Nancy Wait

Being inspired is like being a child again, which Nietzsche describes so beautifully in his parable from Thus Spake Zarathustra. “Finally, after defeating the dragon of “Thou shalt”, the creative spirit is born into its final metamorphosis: the child. As Zarathustra says of the child: The child is innocence and forgetting, a new beginning, a game, a self-propelled wheel, a first movement, a sacred “Yes”. For the game of creation, my brothers, a sacred “Yes” is needed…”